


The War of the Wizarding World

by TanteiKID13



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A lot bigger, Alternate Universe - No Homunculi, Amestris has a problem with Voldemort, Because it will be very long, Because there will be an actual war taking place in the second year in the story, Character Death, Crossover, F/M, Gen, Have I mentioned that this will be long?, M/M, Mainly because Voldemort has a problem with everyone, The Wizarding World is bigger than in the books
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2017-11-21 22:05:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/602568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TanteiKID13/pseuds/TanteiKID13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A war is brewing in the Wizarding World, and the Fuhrer will be prepared. Amestris has always been a military power, and it's time everyone remembers that. </p>
<p>Or: Where Edward and Mustang go to the English Wizarding Community to ostensibly maintain peace, and instead know that Amestris is gathering information and plotting to go to war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Many did not know the real meaning of the Wizarding World before the war broke out. It was thought to be an isolated community with hidden towns and schools making up most of the population.

This is _wrong._

Whole countries belonged to the Wizarding World before the war. Areas of high magic density gave rise to clusters of magical populations born with talents unique to the magic from which they sprung. Some of these countries are protected by large versions of what we know as the Fidelius Charm. Others are covered in so many wards that nobody without magic in their veins could enter unless they were born within the wards. Those hidden behind the protections are aware of them and know that, although they are not there for their safety, the wards keep them safe.

In one of these lands, alchemists live and thrive. They know of magic and have studied it extensively. Whole theorems have been developed to show how it does not violate their laws. You cannot expect those who live by Equivalence to be satisfied with anything less.

Magic, it turns out, is an exchange like anything else. Simply being born with magical ability makes electrical devices more likely to act up in your presence. Unless their magic was suppressed, a magical being under non-magical care would die. Wizards cannot advance in anything but magic.

But the exchange goes deeper. Using magic takes energy from the caster and draws misfortune into the area. The amount of either varies with the power of the spell. Schools have always had a forbidden area where the wards funnel the misfortune.

This was not as tidy a solution as it may seem. Creatures in that area did not like the fact that the more wizards there were, the more dangerous their living area became-- and so, hostility and tension ran high between the two groups. Over the years, wizards have come up with many justifications for the creatures' behavior, ignorant to the truth. Prominent Amestrian scholars have argued that part of the cost was the inability to see the cost, but since wizards know nothing of equivalent exchange, the hypothesis has never been tested.

While some researchers have claimed that the feats wizards were capable of outweighed the cost, historians familiar with that world disagree. Tragedies strike the Wizarding World often and wars have a habit of breaking out. While they are immune to many non-magical diseases, there are still those who suffer and die because they couldn't use non-magical methods to heal. Amestrians understand that the price of magic is dear.

It is during one of these times that our story begins, about a year before the war, in one of the hidden countries, known as Amestris.


	2. In Which We Meet Our Protagonists

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An introduction to Edward Elric, Roy Mustang and the mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter isn't heavy on anything, plot or otherwise. The Roy/Ed will be long in coming as Ed is still 17 right now. Instead, I give you fluff and set-up!

“Yes, sir.” Edward Elric saluted and, after being dismissed, walked from the room back to the office. While he was still not the most formal person, he had grown accustomed to being in the military as the years went by and was professional when actually working.

 

Besides, it had been worth it to see the chaos and suspicion the first time he had come in quietly and respectfully listened to his orders from the newly elevated Major General Mustang, following his own promotion to Colonel and subsequent move into the office. As a full Colonel, he technically had his own office, but had refused to move out of Mustang’s. The Fuhrer had been obliging, but saddled him with five of his own subordinates who Edward checked up on less than he probably should. He still had a disproportionate number of assignments in the field, along with more paperwork. Contrary to all expectations, he had become rather skilled in finishing it quickly and forging the Major General’s signature when time was of the essence.

 

Hawkeye loved this development, regarding him with an indulgent pride that saved him from her various forms of encouragement by firearm. The rest of the office was too scared of her to heckle Ed about it, but they damn well noticed that he did not get the gun pointed at him unless he was arguing with Mustang and even then, was shot at less.

 

This assignment though… He mulled it over in his head. This was going to be annoying. He had a latent talent with magic and had planned to keep it that way, but he wasn’t sure he had much of a choice. Using alchemy on this mission wouldn’t be a very smart choice. No need to tip his hand and reveal the full breadth of his skills when they were preparing to go to war. Even if the Fuhrer hadn’t specifically mentioned preparing for battle, it was implied. Amestris was always caught up in one conflict or another, so this was just adding another possible enemy.

 

Mustang caught up to him around then, after being dismissed himself from the Fuhrer’s office. They walked companionably for a few moments before Edward broke the silence.

 

“I don’t think I’ll be a very good ambassador.”

 

“And I will?” Mustang asked absently.

 

His mind was obviously somewhere else. It was also obvious that Mustang would make a better ambassador than Edward, despite a week-long crash course from Mustang’s officers, enforced by Hawkeye. They seemed to be under the impression that he planned on rising high in the ranks after his promotion and would need it. Little did they know, Edward’s only career plan was to be behind Mustang every step of the way to the Fuhrership. It may have been a horrible seven days, but would come in handy now.

 

“Better than me. I understand why I’m going, especially as these people haven’t heard of me, but I am not looking forward to this,” he muttered, “I‘ll probably stand out because of my age and that‘s the opposite of what we want to happen.” Of course, if he remembered his lessons right, wizards were considered adults at seventeen (or had it been eighteen?), so it might not be that much of an issue.

 

“Honestly, everyone who expects you to act like a normal seventeen year old is in for a surprise. You’re more dangerous than many twice your age, even if it doesn‘t show sometimes.” Edward’s eyebrows raised slightly at that.

 

“That sounded suspiciously like a compliment, Major General,” Edward informed him, in an almost official tone. Mustang’s lips twitched for a moment before he resumed an impassive face.

 

“Did it?” he asked, faking surprise.

 

Edward rolled his eyes and didn’t respond to that. Instead, he asked, “What’s the date today?”

 

Mustang looked at him for a moment, obviously slightly confused by the non sequitur. Still, he thought for a moment before answering, “July 14, I think. I’ll have to check the calendar. Why?”

 

“We’re leaving soon then,” Edward mused. “I’ll have to pack. Can’t be late after all the strings the Foreign Department has pulled to get this done.”

 

“Did you just appreciate manipulation?” Mustang asked in jest. A glare was the only response he received. “How long does it take to get there?” he asked, more to divert Edward’s attention than out of actual curiosity.

 

Ed looked at the ceiling for a moment, face thoughtful, before he looked at Mustang once more. “Well, we have to take Amestrian trains to get to the West and then we’ll take some a flight to get to England. I’d rather not risk the consequences with using magical transportation to get there. I’ve heard non-magical transportation is really fast too. Could probably get us there in under a day. The whole trip outbound will probably take about a week.”

 

Mustang hid a smirk. Of course Edward would know how fast transportation was outside the wards, even if Mustang was sure he had never needed the information before.

 

“Wait,” Ed paused and, when Mustang continued walking, grabbed Mustang’s arm. “I said wait, bastard.” Too used to the insult to take offense, Mustang simply looked at Ed, raising one eyebrow and managing to seem unconcerned with the too tight grip his subordinate had on his arm. “Do you even know English?”

 

“Of course,” Mustang drawled, “I’m a bit rusty, but English is one of the languages at least half the population of Creta speaks.” He ignored the fact that it was technically no longer Creta, but Amestris’s western territory. There were enough rebellions in the area that there was no doubt as to what the former Cretans thought of the whole issue. Returning to their conversation, Mustang asked, “Do you?”

 

“Of course. Certain journals never get translated,” Edward replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world and why _wouldn’t_ he know English?

 

Mustang’s eyebrow twitched at his tone, but Edward was already walking away and they were almost to the office anyway. He doubted Hawkeye would hesitate to use her gun if she heard them arguing after he had arrived late in the morning and subsequently fled to his meeting with the Fuhrer. Perhaps if he started working fast enough, he would be spared. With that in mind, he confidently strode into the room. Very few would notice that he was walking slightly faster than normal. Unfortunately for him, most of those few were in the room he had just entered.

 

Hawkeye had already turned, the deadly glint in her eye at odds with her respectful salute as she spotted him. He had begun praying for a swift death when Edward spoke up. “Major Hawkeye, I may have to leave a little early today. I have to get Winry and Al over here in the next few days.”

 

With that statement, Edward had effectively caught the attention of the entire office and Mustang thanked him silently him, even if the other man was not aware of what he had done.

 

“Why do you have to do that?” Breda asked.

 

“I can’t take a few days off from work before going away on a mission in order to go visit them. I’ll have to ask Winry is she’s made any improvements since I last saw her…” He trailed off with a small wince.

 

Noticing that, Havoc said, “Probably not. You saw her a just few weeks back after destroying your arm again.”

 

Edward winced again before retorting, “That was more than a few weeks back. It’s been at least four months. Besides, it wasn’t _destroyed_! It was just… a bit broken.”

 

Havoc raised an eyebrow before leaning back in his chair and saying, “Your definition of broken is very different from mine.”

 

Edward sighed explosively before grumbling in a manner reminiscent of his younger, brasher self, “Whatever.” He huffed and continued with his earlier statement. “Anyway, after that, Mustang and I are heading out on a mission, along with a few others in various departments, although I’m not sure who.”

 

“What type of mission?” Falman asked.

 

“Information gathering, mostly. Technically we will be there to observe the community and then attempt to renew a treaty at the end of our stay once we’ve learned more about their culture and customs. Of course, everyone knows that means the Fuhrer just wants us to spy on them.” Hawkeye sent him a disapproving look and he supposed that he shouldn’t have used those exact words where someone could hear him and report back to the Fuhrer. He would have to be more careful, especially with this mission on the horizon “It’s in the British Wizarding Community though.” Here, Edward wrinkled his nose in distaste. He was trying to forget that aspect of it, but logically, he knew it was the most important part.

 

He noticed the looks of pity mixed with sympathy directed at him, and his eyebrow twitched. “What are those looks for?” he asked, annoyed.

 

“Nothing,” the office replied simultaneously. Everyone knew the British Wizarding Community was the most troublesome of all of them. It was at this moment when both Hawkeye and Edward noticed something.

“Where did Major General Mustang go?” Hawkeye asked. When her question was greeted by shrugs, she pulled her weapon out in one smooth motion and quietly slid the safety off. Immediately, they pointed as one towards the door that led to Mustang’s office. Hawkeye sighed and put the handgun away. It wasn’t worth it today, especially if he was already in his office. Besides, he had a mission soon and no one would want to replace him.

 

Edward sat down and began to do his work. The others quickly followed suit and Hawkeye smiled approvingly. After a few hours, Fuery came back and the office went to get lunch. Edward grabbed the coat he had taken off in protest of the heat and slung it over his shoulder. Proper decorum be damned when it was this hot. He should get a commendation for even wearing the uniform. Even the air conditioner they had stolen courtesy of small, forgettable, indispensable Fuery was doing little to combat the heat.

 

“I’ll be going now.” He gave a very lazy half-salute--which prompted lazy half-nods from the others and a chorus of goodbyes--before walking out the office door.

 

 

 

 

 

“Yeah, yeah… I got it, old lady! Pass me over to Al already!” Edward sighed. Winry hadyelled at him for ruining his automail already before he managed to get out that he hadn’t--at which point Pinako began to question the suspicious activity of him calling when he didn’t need something. He realized that it was only half-joking on their part.

 

“Brother? Are you injured?” Edward glared at the phone box in front of him. Sure, he usually didn’t call more than weekly nowadays, but did they really have to jump to that conclusion when he did? Whether they were correct or not was irrelevant.

 

“No, Alphonse. Have a little faith in your older brother! I’ll be going away for a while and wanted to see if you and Winry could come to Central before I left. I can’t get down to Risembool,” he explained, fingers idly tapping the glass he was leaning against.

 

His little brother paused for a moment before asking, “How long will you be gone?” Edward detected a hint of anxiety in his tone and he squashed the urge to frown at it.

 

“The mission will last a year, at least. We’ll be going to the British Wizarding Community. It’ll be Mustang, me and a few other people.”

 

“A year…” Alphonse trailed off before pragmatically asking, “When are you leaving then? Winry and I will be sure to come up.”

 

He stopped tapping, words flowing from his tongue without him really thinking about them. “Well, I just found out about the mission today, so I had to-”

 

Alphonse cut him off, realizing his brother was stalling. “Brother. When?”

 

“Next week.” Edward tensed, waiting for something, though for what he wasn’t sure.

 

Alphonse sighed lightly, with a hidden resignation that Edward was intimately familiar with. “That’s not much time. We’ll be there in a few days. Don’t do anything stupid until we get there.”

 

If Edward hadn’t known that was his brother’s way of reassuring himself, he would have been tempted to launch into a tirade about how he rarely did stupid things, and Alphonse should already know that. Instead, he simply replied, “I won’t. I only have a few days to do anything and I don’t think I can think of anything suitably catastrophic in that time.”

 

Alphonse laughed and they said their goodbyes. Winry was put back on the phone and Edward quickly asked, “Have you made any improvements?”, trying to derail any further comments about how his recklessness. He could practically hear her glowing with excitement.

 

“A few. I wanted to try out a new material actually. I think you’ll like it if you’re going to England, but I’ll have to work quickly if you want to try it out. The material is an alloy that’s more resistant to cold-” At this point, Edward tuned out her ramblings. He understood her passion, but the subject still wasn’t of interest to him.

 

Hearing a pause, he interjected, “Sounds great. I have to head out now, so I’ll see you soon.”

 

Quickly saying goodbye, Edward hung up and walked off. He really did have to pack, although he had plenty of time. He briefly considered packing a few books from Central First Branch library, but considered how zealously the librarians guarded their hoard and dismissed the idea. Either way, he had to brush up on his English. It had been a while since he had read something that required it and he never had learned to actually speak the language.

 

Edward sighed again. He was going to have to read a dictionary again, and it would be good to read up on the English Wizards. He was reluctantly proud of his country if not its history, and his behavior would reflect upon Amestris and the other ambassadors. He would have to find out exactly how he was supposed to act in English society.

 

This week would involve a lot of research. Edward grinned and several people moved away once they saw it. The Fullmetal Alchemist grinning like that didn’t tend to bode well for the people around him. Ignoring the reactions of the people around him, he began wondering which books would be the most helpful. He hadn’t had a challenge like this in a while. It would be fun.

 

 

 

 

 

“Hughes?”

 

Maes blinked a few times, trying to force himself awake, before he slid on his glasses. “Ed? Why are you calling me at-” He checked the time and almost recoiled from shock. “-five in the morning?”

 

“I need some help,” Ed said shortly. It took a moment for the sentence to sink into Maes’s sleep-deprived mind, but once it had, he was very awake.

 

“What’s going on? Did you blow up a building again? What do you need?” Maes asked quickly, not bothering to pause for breath. Edward was a trouble magnet in the best of times, but he didn’t often need Maes’s help.

 

“I didn’t blow up that building! That was an unstable alchemic reaction drawn by an idiot who activated it right when-”

 

Maes’s mini-panic attack quickly faded once Ed started talking. If he had enough time to rant about how he hadn’t technically blown up a building yet, he was fine for the moment. “Of course, Edward. What do you need though? I’d like to go back to sleep at some point.” Really, he’d like to go back to sleep at that moment, but it wasn’t likely to happen.

 

“Ah. Right.” Maes shook his head, a fond smile on his lips. Edward could get distracted so easily sometimes. “Where can I find information on the British Wizarding Community?”

 

“Oh, you’re one of the ones chosen for the mission.” That was a smart move on the Fuhrer’s part, in Maes’s opinion. “Have you looked in the library already?” That was usually Ed’s first resource, and the participants had only been informed yesterday that they were chosen. It was odd that he was calling Maes at this point.

 

“Yeah. They only have a few books that even mention the place, and most of them are fiction. Poorly written fiction. Only one of them was helpful in the least, but it was one of the fiction books, and so it could all be wrong for all I know.” Maes shifted the phone slightly as he rubbed at his eyes. It was just too early for him to be functioning properly. Edward may wake up at this sort of time whenever he went in for work, but Maes had a later schedule. Really, practically everyone had a later schedule than Edward Elric. There were rumors floating around that the boy never slept, and Maes would be worried for the boy’s health if he hadn’t seen him sleep until noon on his off days.

Edward had better drive when it came to what interested him than many researchers far older than him. The potential of his formidable mind would tempt any department, and Maes often wished Roy would share. Then he went and did something stupid and Maes returned to being glad that Roy was the one who had to deal with it. He was almost certain Edward had so few missions that went as planned that he now abandoned the carefully drawn up plans by default, and played it by ear because it had statistically worked out better for him.

 

“Yeah, we don’t deal with them often. Information can be a bit hard to come by and most of it is hopelessly outdated if it came through official channels.” Or even some of the unofficial channels. Wizards were annoying to deal with at the best of times. “Amestris hasn’t directly dealt with them since sometime in the 1500s. I’ll check some of the files at work, see if I can find anything for you. Either way, you should probably ask Roy about it.”

 

“Mustang?” Edward sounded honestly perplexed that the man’s name was even mentioned. “Why would he have anything?”

 

Maes chuckled lightly and leaned on the counter behind him. “You guys don’t really discuss hobbies with each other, do you? He likes learning about other cultures. Doesn’t care much about the specifics of their machinery or anything, just likes knowing about their languages and etiquette. Even if information is hard to come by from here, he used to convince people who were traveling out of the wards to bring him back a book or two when we were in the academy,” he explained. “I think he even managed to travel outside the wards for a couple of days at some point.”

 

“Clever bastard. Half the population of Creta and some people outside the wards, more like,” Edward muttered. More loudly, he said, “I’ll ask the bastard what he knows at work today. Thank Hughes.”

 

“No problem.” Edward may not be able to see it, but Maes’s glasses glinted as a goofy smile crossed his face. “Do you know what Elysia did just the other day though? She was so cute, working on-”

 

“Right, Maes, I’ll see you soon! Bye!” Edward said hurriedly and a dial tone came through moments later.

 

“Geez. You would think he didn’t want to hear about Elysia.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

“It doesn’t count as breaking into your house if you invite me to look at your books anytime,” Edward said the moment he heard the door open, not even bothering to look up from the book that had captured his attention. His face rested on one of his palms and his entire body showed how relaxed he was, making the intensely focused expression on his face seem out of place.

 

“It wasn’t an invitation to break into my house and then splay across my couch,” Mustang said without heat, hanging up his jacket as if finding Edward in his home was an expected occurrence.

 

“I made coffee,” Ed offered with a shrug, turning a page as he shifted into a more comfortable position, laying his head on the armrest of the couch.

 

It was unclear whether he was making an offer or simply making a statement, but Mustang took it as the former. “Excellent. Which book is that?”

 

Edward shot him an unimpressed look, as if he were supposed to recognize every book in his library on sight, before he tilted the book up slightly to expose its spine. ‘ _Pride and Prejudice_ ’ it read in English, in almost indecipherable loopy golden writing. “It’s not a particularly helpful book,” he said flatly.

 

Mustang’s lips twitched as he refrained from chuckling. “It’s not supposed to be.” He disappeared into the kitchen for a few moments, reappearing with a steaming mug clasped in one hand. He moved over to the shelves in his living room, hands skimming over his books before he came to the one he was looking for.

 

The thin, black book had no title on its cover, but there was a small ‘D’ in red cursive on the lower right hand corner.

 

“This is the one I started on. It’s a journal from one of the men who made the trip a couple of times over the years. He never traveled to the British Wizarding Community, but he did go to England. I bought it off him before he moved out of the wards,” Mustang explained, handing the book to Edward. It would be almost impossible to replace the thing if it somehow got ruined, but he wasn’t that worried; after all, this was Edward Elric, and the one thing he could always be trusted with was books.

 

Edward took the book a lot more gingerly than Mustang would have expected, hand lightly touching Mustang’s for a moment as he slid it out of his grip. Ed brushed his hand across the cover, scattering a slight build-up of dust. It had been a while since Mustang had needed that book, so it was to be expected. “Did you know him well?”

 

Mustang breathed out slowly, considering the question. “Once. He’s gone now.”

 

The young man had enough tact not to ask what he meant. A lot of people were gone now, one way or another.  He simply nodded and gave Mustang a short smile of gratitude before setting down _Pride and Prejudice_ and carefully opening the journal.

 

The dark-haired man grabbed his own book, _A Treatise on The Cost of Magic_. While rather outdated and occasionally grossly biased, it was still widely considered one of the premier resources on magic. He shoved Ed’s feet off the couch to make room for himself, not bothering to complain when Ed just put his feet into Mustang’s lap after a moment. A companionable silence fell, broken only by the soft turning of pages and the clinking of their coffee cups as they drank.

 

A few hours later found Edward asleep, limbs haphazardly, one foot still in Mustang’s lap while his other leg and one arm had slid off the couch. Their cups rested on the coffee table and the journal was clutched loosely in Edward’s grasp, almost touching the ground. Mustang set down his own book and shifted Edward’s foot off him before heading into the hall to get a blanket. He draped it over Ed, not surprised when Ed had managed to tangle himself in it once Mustang returned from the kitchen after getting a refill of coffee.

 

He grabbed the book from Ed’s grasp, bookmarked it and set it on the table with his mug. He never did finish his drink as he was asleep himself a few minutes later.

 

Ed woke up early in the morning, carefully exiting the room and pretending that he didn’t notice Mustang waking up. That scene was a bit too charmingly domestic for the both of them when Edward still lived for adrenaline and Mustang lived in fixed single-mindedness for the Fuhrer’s seat. He walked back to the dorms and vaguely wished he had one of the mobile phones that the author of the journal had written about. They would be useful so he could thank Hughes for his advice before he had to head off to work, even if they did seem unnecessarily bulky. Edward was sure he could modify that design to make it smaller. Then they wouldn’t have to be limited to automobile usage.

 

As Ed walked on, he continued to muse on his newfound knowledge of the world outside the wards. It had never been relevant before and probably would never be relevant again, but Edward loved knowledge.

 

The Colonel could be found sprawled on Mustang’s couch every night that week.

 

Neither of them mentioned it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Brother! You’re late!” His brother not only managed to call this over the low buzz of people wandering the train station, but also conveyed a certain pointed accusation in his voice that Ed was certain he would never be able to replicate.

 

Alphonse looked well, holding both his and Winry’s luggage like the gentleman he was and having put on some weight since Edward last saw him. Ed was of the opinion that Al always needed to put on weight, ever since they had managed to restore him to his body, and both Winry and Pinako shared this sentiment.

 

The brat was wearing that blue coat to copy Ed though. He can tell from the mischievous twinkle in his eyes. Ed refused to comment on it, just to spite him. At least the rest of his outfit didn’t copy Ed, because leather pants simply didn’t go as well with Alphonse’s personality, even if he was a cheeky imp sometimes.

 

“I was asleep!” He quickly moved on from that topic, because he had in fact been asleep on Mustang’s couch once again. While _he_ knew it was completely benign, Al has been trying to revive Ed’s romantic life for a year now and wouldn’t take it that way. He wasn’t sure if Al would try to kill Mustang or try to force them into a relationship, but he’s not particularly eager to find out either way.

 

“You’re staying at the Hughes’s, right? Let me take that,” he said, snatching one of the suitcases from his brother’s hand. It was a bit heavier than he expected, so it was probably the one for the automail. “How have you both been? Helping out on any of the neighbor‘s farms or has work kept you guys busy? Any interesting customers?”

 

Huh. Perhaps he had been speaking a little too fast, as Alphonse was giving him a look that implied he knew exactly what Ed was trying to do but would let it slide for now. Even after being separated for months, they know each other too well. Ed hoped, in the back of his mind where all the sappy thoughts he never acknowledged went, that this would never change, because they had been through so much already that they deserve to keep this one thing.

 

Alphonse told him about some of the more interesting customers that he had helped with and mentioned how busy Winry had been in the last week. Winry grinned and began talking a mile a minute about the limbs she had designed for him and how much work she had put into it and how sorry he would be if he broke it. Ed nodded at the appropriate places, content to walk and enjoy their company. He valiantly did not comment on how much closer than usual Al and Winry were walking. He was smart enough to know that there were some places where he couldn’t interfere in his brother’s life, even if his brother wouldn’t return the favor. Then again, Alphonse was better at people than him, so having some help might not be that bad of a thing if it was from Al.

 

He still smirked at Al when he held the door open for Winry and was gratified to see his brother go red.

 

Still such a kid.

 

It took until about halfway into the week for Al to burst into Edward’s home and find that Edward was not there. He said nothing to his brother about it, although he couldn’t resist the odd smirk slipping through during the day. Edward looked at him askance more than a few times, but Al remained silent while he wondered who his brother was spending his nights with. He would know as soon as Ed was ready to tell him, but it didn’t make him any less curious as to who had managed to capture his brother’s attention.

 

The next day Winry decided it would be a good time to replace his automail, and he gritted his teeth through the poking and prodding, and tried not to squirm as the pain of reattachment made his vision blur for a few moments. There was a slight ache at his ports, as there always was when the nerves reconnected. It would be gone by the time he left, which was the only reason he allowed it so late into their visit. He would not let himself be anything other than at his best when he left Amestris.

 

The world outside the wards was unknown territory, and all soldiers knew what to do when going into unknown territory: assume everything was out to kill you.

 

He grinned--although it was more baring his teeth than smiling--at the thought; it had been all too true on some of his missions.

 

He closed his eyes as Winry connected his leg and forced his mind off of the procedure once more by mentally reviewing the train schedules and timing. It was something of a favorite thought of his when he had some downtime. He wasn’t entirely sure why he was anticipating the journey to England so much-- it was England and sure to be cold and wet and miserable for his ports there, if the journal was any indication.All the same, he had memorized the precise time and date for every arrival and departure and even a few of the more interesting stops.

 

He didn’t move when Winry finished, letting the nerves readjust for a few moments before he stretched. He ignored the spike in pain that accompanied the movements and analyzed how his limbs felt. It took a little less energy to move them, and he hadn’t been able to flex all the way like this with his last set. Those had been built with a focus on strength and durability while these seem to be focused on speed and agility. He noticed how there was some excess metal on the top of his arm and fought the urge to grin. Winry was even planning for him to get into fights now and designing accordingly.

 

He hugged her before she moved too far away. It was a bit awkward seeing as he was shirtless and not usually the hugging type of person, but she returned it well enough. “Thanks, Win. Your work is amazing sometimes.”

 

She pulled back from his embrace and smiled indulgently at him. “No need to thank me. I’d do anything to make sure you’re alright.” They grinned at each other for a moment before she added, “And what do you mean sometimes? My work is always amazing, alchemy nerd!”

 

Al watched them fall back into their usual banter, leaning against the doorway as he listened to them casually toss insults at one another. He continued watching fondly even as Ed flinched away from Winry who was waving around her trustworthy wrench a tad too close to his head for comfort.

 

He couldn’t help the niggling worry that it would be years before such a scene would be able to repeat itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a beta and shall be updating over here! This is cross posted to ff.net, but this story is undergoing some edits, so only the nice version shall be posted over here rather than the current sort of messy version over there. I ramble more in my author's notes over there too.


	3. Chapter 3

“You really shouldn’t be walking yet,” Al noted in a tone that was more observing than disapproving. Edward didn’t even bother to look up from rummaging in the fridge. He was still wearing the boxers and the slightly worn out muscle shirt he had worn for the operation. He shrugged absently as he roughly shoved the milk out of the way to get at the unusual pastry behind it. “Winry’s going to kill you. What are you even eating?”

It was the middle of the night and neither of them should be up. Alphonse was taking over Ed’s couch that night while Winry had stolen his bedroom. According to Winry, it was so he could be monitored after the surgery, but Ed was pretty sure it was just because his bed was really comfortable. Winry made an excuse to steal it at least once every time she was in Central. Edward was supposed to have stayed on the couch in his study to avoid aggravating his still sensitive nerves, but Al had had the feeling that wouldn’t be the case.

Edward finally straightened, examining his food with a faint look of distaste on his face. Al had never seen him approach most foods with anything less than enthusiasm in normal circumstances, but he simply waited for his brother to say something.

Ed wrinkled his nose slightly as he explained, “Local food in the British Wizarding Community. I’m told it’s pumpkin pasties.” He made a vague motion to offer one, but Al shook his head. “And what Winry doesn’t know won’t hurt her.” He gave Al a pointed look with that last statement. 

Al lowered his head for a moment in tactic agreement before glancing behind him toward the empty hall. Even though he was certain they would hear Winry coming long before she would hear them, he pitched his tone lower and said, “There’s something wrong with this mission.”

Edward himself double-checked the hall and quickly began drawing the curtains after casting a glance out of them. It never hurt to be paranoid in Amestris, where the slightest thing could be misconstrued as treason or sedition in the right hands. He knew he had enough enemies that were waiting for him to stumble and had done himself no favors in the chain of the command during the wars.

Treason was taken seriously in Amestris. 

Alphonse waited until his brother was done, his frown growing slightly more pronounced with each rustle of fabric. The room was almost completely dark when he was done, only the slightest sliver of light coming in through the fabric of the curtains from the streetlamps outside. Once he saw the small nod Edward gave him, he continued, “The Fuhrer may want to scope out potential allies, but why send some of his strongest alchemists for an entire year just for information? Why not send more people from Intelligence? We’re always close to war with Drachma and Xing, even if our borders are open right now.”

Edward nodded seriously, his eyes casting around for something he had missed in his security. He was tempted to use alchemy to truly secure the windows, but that would draw too much attention and defeat the purpose. “I’ve thought about that. The Fuhrer is a smart man,” he said cryptically, pausing for just long enough that Al was pretty sure he wouldn’t elaborate. His voice was almost a whisper as he asked, “What sort of information could his most efficient fighters give him that someone from Intelligence couldn’t?”

Alphonse exhaled slowly, letting it sink in and allowing himself to come to the conclusion he really hadn‘t wanted to. “He wants to start a war.”

“I don’t think the results of the mission really matter,” he said darkly, looking down at the ground. He looked as if he were bracing himself for a blow, fists clenched and feet apart. “He claims so many soldiers are going due to possible hostility, but we outnumber Intelligence four to one. There are only eight of us, and we each have independent assignments. That sort of group,” he paused, looking for the right words. He met his brother’s eyes and forced his body to relax as he said, “It searches for threats and reasons to act on them, not reasons to maintain peace.” 

Al’s brow furrowed as his frown became even deeper. “Why them though? He could easily sway public opinion so a war with Drachma or Xing was popular.”

“There’s been a decline in military support lately. Too many lost lives, too little gain. I’d say the old man’s looking for an easy victory,” Ed said, shrugging almost dispassionately, but Al caught the coiled tension in his every movement. Edward never had been the best at properly relaxing, particularly when people were trying to manipulate him. “Everyone knows you can disarm a wizard way easier than you can disarm an alchemist.” Seeing as the easiest method for disarming an alchemist was to knock them unconscious, that was an understatement.

He took a bite of one of the pumpkin pasties as they stood there in relative silence. He was pretty sure it was just cultural arrogance that made the food taste off, but he didn’t much care, eating the rest of it in as few bites as possible.

The sounds of the yelling of those going home from a night of clubbing outside seemed more distant than usual as Ed turned to the cupboard. Alphonse tread lightly on the ground, opening the curtains once more as Ed grabbed a cup and poured himself some juice. “I’m going to bed then,” he said. Ed looked at him, noticed how he didn’t say ‘back to bed’ and wondered just how long Al had had trouble sleeping.

“I’ll probably be heading out in a bit.” He gulped down the rest of his juice and set the glass down in his sink as quietly as he could, unable to avoid the slight clink as it touched down. His brother was staring at him again. He could feel it.

He looked up after a very long moment, cheeks going red at the sight of the smirk on Al’s lips. “Not like that!” he said, a tad bit too sharply for a whisper to convey well. Alphonse’s smirk widened at his response.

“Then like what?” he asked impishly. 

Edward wasn’t really prepared to give his brother an answer to that question, so he scowled and stayed silent, cheeks burning as Alphonse quietly walked away, an air of smug victory around him that Edward was sure Al had never used in his life before. It didn’t suit him, in Ed’s opinion. Of course, he was willing to admit he was biased against it when it was being used against him.

As soon as his brother was around the corner, Ed slipped into his study once more, grabbing the emergency change of clothes he had hidden that morning when he figured out that Winry wanted to perform the procedure there. He changed into the more appropriate clothing with as little fuss as possible, tugging on his gloves as he double-checked that he had everything. He would hate to have successfully escaped Winry’s notice just to have to double back because he didn’t have his pocket watch and then get caught.

He gave the room once last glance before vaulting himself out the window. The impact jarred him awake, sending spikes of pain through his left leg and he bit back a curse as he did a neat somersault upon landing to prevent a more serious injury. He was pretty sure he would have bruising on his shoulder later and both his ports were stinging.

He was also pretty sure he would get a lecture if anyone knew his first thought was that he should probably practice jumping out of his window more often, just in case. He just wanted to be in the best condition possible for anything, honestly. It had nothing to do with the sensation of flying that he could feel for a split second. 

He looked back up at his home, scanning the windows for any sign of movement. He looked away a moment too early to see the curtains draw back slightly and Alphonse peek around them, a smile on his lips.

Rolling his shoulders in an effort to rid himself of the remaining sting, he began casually walking down the street, not looking at the few people he did pass. The drunkards were rowdy often, but a hint of the gold in his eyes and the silver in his pocket sent them scurrying away rather than trying to cause trouble.

State alchemists could send fear into everyone’s hearts, Hero of the People or no.

 

 

 

Roy wasn’t particularly surprised to find Edward on his couch when he woke up in the morning. He was surprised that Ed was asleep on his couch this late, but neither of them had to be in to work today either way. It was a surprise merely because he had always simply assumed that the schedule a working Edward Elric kept was the same one a relaxing Edward Elric kept. He had been out of Roy’s house every morning early enough to make the assumption seem valid.

He stared at Ed blearily for a moment before wandering into the kitchen and making coffee. He preferred not to function before his morning coffee. When he returned to the living room, he noted that Ed had left and wondered when the man had gotten so sneaky. He hadn’t even heard the door open. He also wondered when he had grown to expect that behavior as he carefully stowed the book now lying on his coffee table on his bookshelf before settling onto his couch, feet kicked up, cup in hand.

It was much too early for this sort of thing.

 

 

 

Edward was a bit glad that it was a lot harder sneaking into his house without being detected than it was sneaking out of it. Really, he was. However, it was a bit problematic and Alphonse signing behind his back through the window, telling him to hurry up, was not particularly helpful.

He sighed. His body was going to kill him for some of the things he did to it one day. If his job didn’t kill him first.

It only took him a minute to climb the steps of the building next to his and a bit of alchemy to get through a locked door onto the roof. He repaired the lock swiftly, ignoring the slight warping around the edges that were the telltale sign of a hasty transmutation, and cautiously peeked over the edge of the building. Alphonse was still signing at him, although it was a bit faster and more frantic now. 

Edward took a deep breath before leaping over the edge of the building and onto his own roof. He had had it reinforced for this specific purpose because one never did know when they would have to avoid being seen going into their own home. That had been a bit hard to explain to the guys doing the reinforcing, but they went along with it. After all, he was the FullMetal Alchemist; he was allowed to be a little eccentric. 

He made a set of stairs that led into the study and transmuted it back into the roof before the increase in sunlight into the room could be noticed. He brushed off a bit of dust from his right shoulder and braided his hair once more before exiting the room.

Winry, who had been walking toward the door at that point, was saying something about him missing breakfast to Al over her shoulder. Hearing him, she turned around in surprise. “It’s not even noon and you’re up!” she teased.

He had forgotten how long it was since Winry had visited him in Central. He thought about correcting her for a moment, about telling her about how he was always awake before noon because there always seemed to be something that required the FullMetal Alchemist’s attention. He was pretty sure that, by this point, waking up after noon would be impossible for him. She looked happy teasing him about it though.

“What time is it?” he asked her, even though he knew full well precisely what time it was. He forced his voice to sound a bit slow and groggy, like he used to sound whenever he woke up when they were children.

Winry smiled at him in that warm but patronizing manner she had sometimes and he sometimes deserved. “It’s barely ten, Ed. Come on, we’re going out to eat.” 

Edward rubbed at his eye slightly, a yawn erupting from his mouth. Perhaps he was a bit more tired than he realized. Really, he should get more sleep, but he hadn’t slept well since his mother’s death and it had only gotten worse in recent years. 

“Who’s paying for it then?” he asked, pretending to be obtuse and knowing Winry and Alphonse both knew precisely what he was doing. Winry still obligingly played along while Al hid his smile at their usual antics, trying to act mature.

Winry sidled up to him and said with a wide grin, “Why, the successful military Colonel, of course!”

He snorted and snatched up one of the hats he left by the door to lessen the chance he would be recognized, shoving it roughly onto his head before walking out. Alphonse was right behind him, adjusting the cap slightly so that it sat properly, and Winry walked at Al’s side. “Sometimes I feel like the only reason you two visit me at all is to get free food.”

“You’ve caught us, Brother. Darn. Now we’ll have to come up with another way of getting free things,” Alphonse said sarcastically.

Ed directed a mock suspicious glare at him. “What happened to the real Al? He wasn’t nearly so snarky the last time I saw him.” Winry giggled and he resisted the urge to shoot her a similar look. She had never giggled in the years he had known her so much as she had during this week.

They were going to be good for one another once they got over the whole “too nervous to broach the topic” thing. He’d just be glad that they were back to their normal selves. 

 

 

 

“Remember to do regular maintenance on your automail, and try not to do anything that could break it. I can’t exactly head over to Wizarding Britain whenever you need it,” Winry told him, poking at his chest to ensure he got the message. Her other hand was on her hips, and her slightly wild hair due to the early departure of their train made her look more formidable than usual.

Either way, he knew she would come if he truly needed it. He was pretty sure he wouldn’t, but it was reassuring all the same.

“I’ll try,” he said noncommittally. Winry huffed slightly but picked up her bag.

“Alchemy freak,” she muttered as she gave him a hug, burying her face in his shoulder for a few moments.

“Crazy gearhead.”

Alphonse and Edward looked at each other for a few moments. “Take care of everyone, okay Al?”

His brother smiled. “Well, with you gone, it’s really just one less person to care for,” he joked, albeit with a serious undercurrent to it that made Ed shrug. 

“You’ve always been the older brother on the inside anyway.” Alphonse shook his head but didn’t elaborate.

They gave each other a short hug that really barely qualified as such. “Men,” Winry scoffed, rolling her eyes as she headed toward the train, Al quickly following behind her. “If it’s broken, Edward, I’ll break you!”

“Yeah, yeah, crazy lady,” Ed called back, ignoring the strange looks he was getting from people on the platform. He probably should get moving soon and check in on his office sometime today. He was setting off in the evening, and he hadn’t checked in on those under his command in about two or three weeks now. They were scarily efficient even without him ordering them around.

He waited until Alphonse and Winry were whisked out of sight by the train, waving all the while.

 

 

 

He had found it a good habit to appear in his office dramatically. He knew the reason these specific soldiers had been assigned to him by the Fuhrer and maintaining a larger than life personage around them kept them more firmly on the “worship the heroic Colonel” side than the “report back to the Fuhrer on his activities” side. That was also why he hated going back to his office and avoided it whenever possible.

“He should have come by. Maybe the intel was mistaken?” Shit, they were really horrible spies. Well, maybe that wasn’t quite fair to them. He had just snuck into his third story office through the window, so they couldn’t exactly expect him to be able to hear them. Still, shoddy spies. They were naïve and trusting in all the worst ways for such a position; he was always resisting the urge to compare them to puppies in his head.

“The intel is never mistaken,” one of the men whispered back low enough that Edward wouldn’t have been able to hear him at all if he had been in the corridor with its slightly thicker door, designed to prevent spying on specific offices. Internal office doors were made thin and hollow so that commanding officers could keep an eye on their subordinates. 

Someone let out an irritated sigh. “Get back to work, guys. Whether he comes or not, you all have paperwork to do. Do you really want to disappoint the FullMetal Alchemist and possibly get him in trouble because of your incompetence?”

There was the sound of chairs scraping against the ground and the shuffling of papers for a few moments. Edward debated entering the office and surprising his subordinates before the door swung open and Second Lieutenant Celia shrieked at seeing him there, almost dropping the paperwork she was carrying in. “Sir! How long have you been here?” she asked, snapping to attention.

He stared at her as her breathing slowed and she began to color. She was easily embarrassed which would have been almost endearing if he didn‘t know why she was embarrassed in this situation. “Does it matter?” he asked, all innocence and charm. Her obvious discomfort was slightly appeasing; he may not be a sadist, but he certainly wasn’t looking to put her at ease at the moment.

“No, Sir!” she barked out. He nodded sharply. At least she wasn’t stupid. 

“At ease.” He gestured for the paperwork in her hands, assuming it was for him. She obligingly handed it to him, and he dismissed her from his office. He shook his head before glancing at the stack. It was relatively small compared to his usual amount, but he supposed his work had been distributed throughout different departments. He spared a brief moment to feel pity for them; he was well aware of the fact that he was more efficient than the usual Colonel and was assigned a disproportionate amount of work in response. He set to work, allowing a groggy haze to settle over his mind as he went through the paperwork.

He finished half of the stack he had in the next hour and decided to take a break. He leaned against the doorframe of his office, watching the outer office. First Lieutenant Michael was the only one of them who looked up, mainly because he was already done with his work. Ed nodded at the seated man and received a hesitant nod in return. He was aware of the man’s eyes on him as he looked away, glad he had chosen his iconic red coat over his regular uniform to wear to the office. The thing was almost as much of a legend as he himself was seeing as it had never been completely destroyed no matter how dangerous the situation. There were rumors that it had come out unscathed from encounters that left him in the hospital.

He had laughed himself sick when he had first heard the whispers in his hospital bed and ensured the coat was in pristine condition whenever he went out in it after that.

He took in the tense set of everyone’s shoulders and their hurried scribbling upon the pages in front of them, amusement flashing like a short-lived candle. If they truly thought that he was angry, then the legends of his anger weren’t nearly as legendary as he would have liked. He’d have to ask Hughes about it.

The amusement faded, and Edward returned to his office, unwilling to stand in the silence that never pervaded Mustang’s office. He was done within another hour, and found himself wondering what to do with the rest of his time. It was only nine in the morning and he had to go pick up his belongings at five in the evening. That gave him enough time to go through his house one more time to ensure he had everything and get to the train an hour before it left, to try and avoid the media. It didn’t matter that the mission was being kept quiet. They always found out somehow whenever he was heading out somewhere. He understood that his age and the acceptance he had earned from the people made him fascinating and popular, but he found it annoying that they seemed committed to documenting whenever he was catching a train.

After the last time when he had tried to bludgeon a cameraman with his bulky camera, he tried hard to avoid the press. It wouldn’t do to ruin the image that allowed him the ability to bend the rules a bit more than anyone else would dare.

He rose slowly from his chair and debated exiting the way he had come. That seemed a bit too dramatic though, so he made his way through the office, bringing his paperwork with him. He could drop it off before he went somewhere, which gave him a little more time to decide where that somewhere would be. He tilted his head slightly at his subordinates as he passed by, ignoring their far more cheerful goodbyes. They were an eternally perky lot whenever he acknowledged them at all. He shuddered to think what might happen if he had a proper conversation with them. 

He took stock of himself as he passed through the halls. Food seemed like an alright idea. It hadn’t been that long since he had eaten, though, and he wasn’t exactly eager to take his lunch break so early in the day. Really, he swore he was already passing through the door before it registered exactly where his feet had carried him, honest.

… Well, Edward had never been very good at lying to himself anyway. 

“Hey Boss,” Havoc said with a nod, the others calling out their own greetings as Ed settled into his chair, the restless feeling that seemed to permeate his entire being silenced for the moment. “You sticking around today?”

Ed shrugged lightly. “Most of it, probably. I’ve done most of my prep already.” He cocked his head toward the door, a smirk on his face. “He’s leaving early then?”

Hawkeye was the one who answered, slight annoyance in her tone. Her hand was a safe distance from her gun for now as she wrote, even if she could probably shoot him in two seconds flat, regardless of where her hand was at the moment. “Not if he doesn’t finish the paperwork that he’s been avoiding for two days.”

He wasn’t imagining the despairing groan that emanated from the inner office. He knew Mustang would be done with everything in time, simply because that was the man’s nature. Ed smirked as Hawkeye narrowed her eyes at the door. She continued with her work, so he looked around at the others. They were all doing their own assignments, with Fuery’s being the most interesting. He seemed to be trying to fix the air conditioning unit they had borrowed, although it had been working perfectly fine when they had first gotten it. Edward couldn’t decide if the man was trying to make it work better than it had been or simply work at all. The day was windy enough that the air conditioning wouldn’t have done much anyway, so it really could be either one. 

He walked over and looked over the man’s shoulder. He knew what some of the wires were for, but a decent amount of it was lost on him as Fuery fiddled with the machine. After a short period of silence, Fuery began muttering explanations of what he was doing and Ed grinned. The man knew him too well. 

About an hour after noon, Havoc manhandled him out of the office, ignoring his loud complaining about both the manhandling and being torn away from the interesting work going on. He narrowed his eyes as he was hustled through the doorway, noticing Hawkeye’s slight smile along with Breda’s full grin before he couldn’t see the office any longer. “Asshole,” he muttered loud enough for Havoc to hear just to show that he wasn’t pleased with the situation even if it was probably best that someone had reminded him that it was time to eat. He would hate to have missed his one of his last meals in Amestris for a while.

Havoc just grinned unrepentantly at him, which probably meant that he knew exactly what Ed wasn’t saying. Damn. The entire office knew him too damn well. 

A few people were looking amused at their antics as they went down the hall although many of them tried to keep a straight face. It had been a few weeks since he had done anything particularly childish. Some of those they passed called out a goodbye before Havoc managed to get him to the next hallway. 

He took his arm back as the door to the mess hall came into view and shoved Havoc slightly before dashing in. The servers all loved him more than almost anyone else in the building, so he knew Havoc would have to wait for any sort of vengeance until they were alone again or else he might end up with food that had been tampered with or little food at all. Ed simply grinned smugly as the man’s annoyed countenance came through the door. “Brat,” he said, narrowing his eyes at Ed’s pleased expression.

“Hello Marsha,” Ed said to the woman behind the counter, completely ignoring Havoc. 

In the end, Havoc almost managed to trip Ed as they exited the mess hall but failed due to Mustang’s unexpected entrance, as he casually bumped Ed’s shoulder and rebalanced him in the process. Ed nodded both in greeting and thanks to the man who turned back to the few papers he had brought with him. To anyone else, Ed would have cautioned against it, but Mustang ate in an almost preternaturally neat and graceful way, and messing up the papers really wasn’t an issue. 

Al, of course, had always argued that Mustang just ate like a normal person and Ed just ate like a heathen. Ed usually let the argument drop quite quickly as it always seemed bizarre to argue about how graceful Mustang may or may not be. 

Secretly, Alphonse always found it odd how quickly that particular argument got dropped because Ed was usually quite happy to argue about exactly how messy he was or was not for hours even when they both knew Ed was almost meticulously organized in his life except with his clothing, food and a few other items. His uniform, when he wore it, looked crisp only because he had gotten tired of hearing others scold him for an imperfectly pressed uniform or unpolished boots or any number of infractions. It annoyed him that no one had bothered him about it when he was younger. 

He realized his thoughts had taken quite a detour once he noticed he was three hallways away from where he had started and Havoc was tugging on his arm once more, leading him as if he were a child this time rather a protesting adult who knew precisely where he was going. He almost growled as he tore his arm from Havoc’s grasp once more and stalked toward Mustang’s office, determinedly ignoring Havoc’s pleased grin. He supposed Havoc considered that his revenge for the shove earlier. 

After they managed to get to the office, Havoc got straight to work, earning himself an approving look from Hawkeye. He hid a grin from her as he perused documents, but Ed saw it and wondered when everyone he knew had started coupling off. To pass the time, he made idle conversation with Fuery, who had finished his work on the air conditioner. Apparently, his goal had been to make it stronger and not to fix it at all. He had only been moderately successful, but the day was just as pleasant as it had been that morning, so it didn’t really matter.

He ended up taking a short nap at one point, but it didn’t last long. He hadn’t realized how much he was anticipating this trip until it was nearly upon him. He might be going for less than pure reasons on his Fuhrer’s orders, but he was finally going to see the outside of the wards. He hadn’t mentioned to anyone how exciting that prospect was to him for fear of being called childish, even if he knew most people, particularly those he knew, would share in his excitement.

 

 

 

Ed casually leaned against a wall, pulling on a hat that was just large enough to be bulky and unfashionable but small enough that no one could call it unmanageable. His hair was currently hiding in it, and he was trying to conceal his distinctive eye color with the brim. The few reporters milling about hadn’t looked twice at him yet, but he was relatively certain that would change once he started approaching the train or if he stood there too long. Some of the reporters he recognized as the more senior among their bunch had already started glancing at him, probably because of his large trunk.

General Walther swept in the entrance and Ed strode over to him quickly. Even if he hadn’t been looking for someone like him, the General’s blond hair was even lighter than Ed’s and made him a bit hard to miss, particularly since it was combined with his dark skin tone that made people whisper of an Ishvalan ancestry. Given his rank in the military, no one really gave any credence to the rumors. His dark green eyes swept over Ed but the man didn’t pause. He noticed that the man shortened his stride slightly so that Ed could keep up; this was one person from whom the concession was welcome, as the man was extremely tall and usually walked at a brisk clip that could leave those who were unused to physical activity panting as they tried to keep up with the man. 

The General would have no reason to be here if he wasn’t going on a train himself and Ed was willing to bet that they had been assigned to the same mission. General Walther was known as a brusque man with very little mercy or pity for anyone. His respect for the military and for military auxilaries was well known, as was his lack of tolerance for mistakes.Many of his subordinates had asked for a transfer out within their first month due to his unforgiving nature. If Ed was correct about the nature of the mission, the general had probably been the first choice of envoy. His rank would also give credence to a diplomatic negotiation. On the other hand, his observation skills would be well served in discovering weaknesses.

Ed was on generally good terms with the man; the general valued results more than method and Edward tended to deliver on those with an astonishingly high success rate. The general didn’t quite respect him as he would someone of equal rank, but treated him indulgently, like a younger sibling in some manners. After watching Walther treat those directly under his command in a similar manner, Ed wondered if the general was trying to mold him into a future subordinate. He hadn’t shared his suspicions with anyone quite yet, as the current situation was working out well for him, and he was aware that the man respected Ed’s current CO.

He didn’t dare tell Mustang for fear of inflating his ego even further, but he was relatively sure that if all the proper channels were followed, General Walther would support Mustang’s rise to Fuhrer. The man had once expressed a disinterest in becoming Fuhrer himself, and Edward knew that General Walther understood exactly how that sort of comment could be taken when rumors of various people’s aspirations to become Fuhrer circulated throughout Central HQ on a regular basis. The significance of his admission hadn’t occured to Ed at first, being younger and ignorant to the subtle politics of Central. It had taken him about a week to understand the hidden shift in loyalties that had been revealed.

“General Walther,” he said with a brisk salute as he fell into step beside the man.

“Colonel. I’ll assume that you’re one of the eight then. Do you know of any others?” Ed raised an eyebrow slightly at the man who simply gave him a slow blink. It was impossible for the man to be unaware of who else was on this mission, which meant he was testing Edward to see what Ed knew.

Ed gave him a slight nod after a moment and noticed with a vague sense of pleasure that the reporters didn’t dare get nearly as close as they did when he was alone. “Major General Mustang was also chosen,” he said and was unable to read any sort of reaction from the man’s blank face. He didn’t mention that Hughes had noted that Lieutenant Alvon and Major Muller from Intelligence were also accompanying them, but the raised eyebrow he got from the General indicated that he knew that Ed was not telling him everything. 

Ed simply smiled at him, annoyed when the cameras flashed more insistently for a moment before they entered the train and were hidden from view. Ed gave a small sigh of relief and Walther looked amused for a moment as they stopped on either side of a compartment door. The instructions had told them to all meet up in the third compartment of the second car, but neither wanted to be seen through the windows.

“How has the Major General been lately?” Walther asked. Ed brushed off the self-consciousness that attempted to creep up on him as he took in the man’s straight back and compared it to his casual leaning on the wall. He squared his shoulders a little, settling himself into a more formal stance.

“Better than the last time you asked.” Seeing as the last time the man had asked had been over a year ago and shortly before the war with Drachma had ended, it would have been difficult for it to be otherwise. But the General didn’t need to hear that from him. If he had wanted to know about Mustang’s condition--and he never really did--then he would have been able to know about it without asking Ed.

“Any particular reason?” Ed tilted his head slightly, narrowing his eyes as he tried to figure out the question. The General sound a bit curious despite himself, and he stared at Ed as if he were trying to ferret out the secrets of the universe by the power of his gaze alone. ‘The universe would probably quake under that sort of look,’ Ed thought fancifully. Ed didn’t move. The General added, “There have been rumors floating about that you’ve been a bit…” He paused, searching for the appropriate term, or perhaps for show. The man was surprisingly theatrical when the mood struck him. “Indiscreet,” he finished.

It took a short moment for him to thread the conversation together before he caught the meaning the General wanted to convey. “I’ll suppose these rumors are surprisingly specific and consistent as to whom I’ve been indiscreet with,” he said--with a hint of annoyance he didn’t bother to hide--even though it was relatively obvious he was correct. Walther didn’t bother to respond which was as good as an affirmative in this instance. He would have preferred not to discuss any sort of personal business at all if he could help it. Ed supposed the general liked him more than he had thought if he was willing to warn him about the rumors going around about him, particularly since he hadn’t even heard these ones yet. They must have been relatively recent.

So, there were rumors going around that he was sleeping with Mustang. He’d have to discuss it with the man himself then, but it couldn’t hurt to plainly tell the general the truth of the matter. “It’s interesting the sort of things that those with too much spare time come up with. With such imaginative souls in our organization, it‘s amazing we haven‘t become renowned for our creativity.” Well, plainly enough.

He opened the door and was greeted with the sight of someone already sitting there. The fact that he was wearing his military uniform indicated both his rank and the fact that he wasn’t exactly the most experienced with missions involving travel; no one could say that the uniform was particularly comfortable for long periods of time. The man was either posted in a contentious area and therefore didn’t have to travel much, or he didn’t have much experience with long distance missions.

“Captain,” Ed said neutrally as the man stood and bowed to the two of them. The General waved him off but the man didn’t sit until the two of them had put their luggage in the compartment across from them and sat. 

“Hello Colonel Elric, General Walther. I’m Captain Yoki. I hope we work well together,” the man said somehow managing to exude the appearance that he was both unruffled and a fan. 

Ed and Walther returned the sentiment, albeit a little less excited about the entire thing. They fell into silence after that, all of them unobtrusively watching one another and all quite certain they were being observed in turn. The others trickled in one at a time with Mustang waltzing in last only fifteen minutes before the train was to leave and promptly claiming the spot between the General and Ed. The General caught Ed’s eye for a moment and gave him a look before returning to gazing at each of their fellows in turn. 

He recognized the Intelligence officers as he had made sure to learn their faces over the last week, but the last two in the compartment were a mystery to him. There was a black-haired man who had a disapproving look on his face; Ed wasn’t sure if that was how his face was naturally set or if he didn’t approve of the group that the Fuhrer had assembled for the mission, but it didn’t much matter. He had only nodded to the General upon walking in, ignoring everyone else, making it not too difficult to guess both his rank and temperment. 

The Lieutenant General might simply be disgruntled because he had assumed he would be the highest ranking member of the mission for all Ed knew. Continuing his examination, he noted that he wasn’t particularly tall, from which Ed drew a sort of vindictive pleasure; it wasn’t immature if he didn’t say it out loud. The man was a bit portly as well and Ed repressed the urge to frown at that; this was a man used to commanding others and not fighting himself. 

The woman had hair in a shade of red that Ed was relatively sure did not occur naturally. That, along with her earrings in the shape of alchemic symbols and the symbols on her watch, tipped him off that she was an alchemist. It was slightly worrisome that the symbols he saw tended to be associated with the creation of poisons, but he was relatively sure he had heard of this woman. If he was correct, she was the Viper Alchemist, thus named due to both her use of poisons and the fact that when her temper was roused, she was a force unto herself; thankfully, it was also rumored to be rather hard to rouse her temper. She seemed to have an affinity for red that Ed was pleasantly surprised to see in someone else. 

Once everyone had settled in and the train was finally on its way, the General took control and suddenly Ed felt like he was back in school on the first day of class as they went around and introduced themselves, which was especially disconcerting when he hadn’t been in school since he was eight, not counting his training with Izumi. He only paid attention to the names he didn’t already know. 

“Lieutenant General Fessler,” said the black-haired man. Ed wasn’t quite sure how he felt about the man as he felt Mustang’s shoulders tense slightly every time Mustang glanced over at Fessler. 

“Lieutenant Colonel Lewis,” the woman said with a slightly bored tone that contradicted the amusement in her eyes. So, she was the Viper Alchemist. Ed wasn’t sure how unsettled he should be by that. 

“We really shouldn’t all be so formal with each other,” Ed said and while Lewis, Walther and Mustang seemed to get it, Fessler, Yoki, Alvon and Muller all seemed a bit less clear. 

“While our ranks may not mean much to a wizard ignorant of non-magical culture, it’s unlikely there will be many wizards like that and our ranks will raise alarm or at least alertness as to our actions,” Mustang explained. “If we were all Sergeants, it would be different, but our ranks are too high to attract no interest at all.” Walther gave Ed another look at that that seemed to be almost mocking. ‘How… indiscreet,’ Ed could picture the man saying to him. He scowled at him over Mustang’s shoulder, ignoring the fact that in order for the others to not see it, he had to lean closer than he had already been in the slightly cramped compartment.

The compartment was designed to sit six passengers comfortably, and the eight of them were pressed together rather tightly. In addition to the small space, the overcrowding was also due to the confident body language everyone felt required to project to make a strong impression, as well as the fact that some of them were bulky individuals. It was fortunate that everyone seemed to have come to the silent consensus to leave their luggage outside the compartment. Ed himself was forced to lean into the corner and Yoki hadn’t been able to claim much space to stretch despite having been there first. 

Mustang lounged as best he could, his limbs held loosely, and Ed allowed him that intrusion into Ed’s space. He himself didn’t need to appear in power or control in this situation, as long as he didn’t look outright weak. Besides, he wasn’t too interested in political posturing. He would have to be more careful to avoid casually invading Mustang’s personal space during the train ride. He had become a bit too used to simply tangling up with the man on Mustang’s couch and no one else would deem that as innocent as it had been. 

Yoki nodded in response to their comments, the gesture seeming almost automatic. Lewis and Walther were smirking while Fessler and Alvon were stone faced; Edward took note of the latter. Alvon had seemed to be a bit of a wallflower, but if she were just shy, she certainly wouldn’t have that expression. Muller was smiling at the entire compartment, seeming excited about generally everything. 

“Last name basis then,” Lewis said and then she stood up in a smooth motion that was barely affected by the rocking of the train. She stretched as she continued, “Lovely chat everyone. Glad we had it. Now, I’m going to go claim my own compartment. Anyone care to join me?” She looked around at them all, but no one really responded directly to her statement as they rose themselves to go off and get a compartment.

It was as they were leaving that Mustang murmured in Edward’s ear, “A week on a train with some of the deadliest people in Amestris. Why do I feel like I’m in a badly written mystery novel?” Ed snorted as he leaned casually next to the door. It was best to warn Mustang now to watch his actions rather than claim a compartment. He had already allowed everyone to leave before him in order to help him catch Mustang alone, so he just had to wait until they were out of earshot. He smiled at the look Lewis gave him and shrugged lightly at Walther’s backward glance, waiting until they had all gone into other cars.

The current car was half compartments for sitting and half dining area, both of which were unsuitable for a sleeping compartment. It was the only reason Ed had decided to wait there rather than drag Mustang to a different compartment to ensure privacy. Maneuvering around other passengers was a non-issue as the train allowing people outside the wards was specially designed to come through the wards undamaged and was being used for military purposes only during this specific trip. No one really complained as it wasn’t as if people were particularly eager to exit the wards.

“No real mystery to be had yet, so you’re still fine,” Ed said flippantly as the door slid shut, waiting until he heard the distinctive click to speak again. “Some people are spreading rumors about us sleeping together. Thought you might like to plan accordingly.”

Mustang hummed, the noise approaching thoughtful but missing it and veering off toward amused. “Nothing to plan yet. We don’t have any influence about what people in Amestris think about us while we’re on this mission, and rumors change and die daily.”

Ed shook his head. “I don’t think so. General Walther expressed concerns about these rumors.” Mustang looked surprised for a moment before the door clicked and his face was set into its default confident smirk. 

“Thought you might still be in here. I was wondering if you two would like to be in the same car, because we need to plan around that,” Muller said, curiosity and innocence on his face in such a manner that Ed wasn’t sure if he should be suspicious of the man or not. He was military, but he was Intelligence and relatively young.

“Don’t care,” Ed said gruffly even as he leveled Mustang a significant look. 

Mustang looked toward the door opposite Muller so he could roll his eyes at Ed before turning back. “I don’t think that’s necessary. There should be enough cars that everyone can claim their own.”

“Ah. I understand,” said the Major with a wink that caused both Ed and Mustang to look at him oddly before he elaborated. “I’ll leave you two alone then.”

“You’re welcome to stay and discuss the mission with us,” Mustang told him calmly.

“Oh, I’m fine, thanks.” Muller simply smiled at them and slipped out.

“Okay, how did we not hear of this before it reached this level?” Ed asked as he rubbed a hand over his face. He wasn’t sure where to start with damage control on this; that was more Mustang’s territory than his.

“We still don’t have to deal with this. It’ll die down soon enough and it’ll be obvious enough that there is nothing going on between us. Just be honest if they ask. You should find that easy enough, unlike if we had to lie about it.”

Ed twitched at the implication that he would have difficulty being anything other than honest, but he knew the man was trying to get a rise out of him. It had become Mustang’s default way of making him forget other worries over the past few years, and it still worked startlingly well even though Ed knew precisely what was going on. “And you should find it pretty difficult, silver-tongued bastard,” he shot back.

“The insult lacks a bit of its bite when I’ve been trying to become a silver-tongued bastard for years.” 

“You’ve always had terrible goals anyway,” Ed said dismissively, managing to pull it off for only a moment before he began laughing at the offended expression Mustang had adopted. “Come on, future Fuhrer.” He ignored Mustang’s warning look at the words; the others were in different cars, likely unpacking in order to be comfortable during the long trip, so the danger was negligible. “Let’s go make sure we get a good car.”

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on ff.net


End file.
